


Blurred Lines

by Im_The_Doctor (Bofur1)



Series: As We Are - Side Stories [1]
Category: Transformers: Prime
Genre: Brief Appearances, Bullying, Determined Gauge, Disrespect, Existential Angst, First Meetings, Hope, Hopeful Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Introspection, Loneliness, Longing, My First Time Writing This Character, Mysterious Strangers, Orion is a Sweetheart, Protectiveness, Public Transportation, Routine, Scorn, Self-Esteem Issues, Slurs, Underestimation, enlisting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-15
Updated: 2015-07-15
Packaged: 2018-04-09 13:07:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4349945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bofur1/pseuds/Im_The_Doctor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gauge may be (mostly) invisible to the outside world, but every day a bit of that world steps into his own, and very gradually, very slightly, both worlds begin to darken in war.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blurred Lines

Every day, Cybertronians streamed past him in a blur of colors and conversations that he was never a part of. He would say hello and receive no greeting in return, only credits shoved into his hands instead of in the container quite clearly marked for payment. Sometimes he would drop bits and pieces of his pay and no one would deign to help him pick it up. Usually he couldn't find time to do so; his passengers were in a hurry to get where they were going, so he had to start up the pod immediately. If anyone thought to ask him—which they didn't—Gauge would wager that something like a diun's pay was lodged into the control area somewhere. Sooner or later he would try to find it, when he had time and could try to think straight. He never did and he never could.

More often than not, the pod would get overcrowded, but it wasn't like Gauge could do much about it. He'd already tried dozens of times to commission a few more pods from the city council, but this was Iacon. Thought turned further to studies in the Archives or the Academy than to elbow room during travel. The travelers managed the transition of attention just fine, however, and it was usually only fifteen minutes before they decided to take their concerns to the driver. By any means necessary.

He tried to ignore it the first few weeks it happened, until a particularly squished and extremely steamed passenger reached over the back of the driver's seat, belted him in the back of the helm and nearly knocked him out cold. Over forty people could have been lost if the pod had crashed and the public transportation system didn't dare lose the customer by accusing him. If the wealthy and well-known passenger refused to use the only airway pod available on this side of Iacon, he could likely drag a lot of their business down with him. Who then was left for the system to blame? His wage was lower than it ever had been and that was saying a lot.

Things began changing around Iacon then. The passengers became quieter, though no less harsh in their offering of credits, and very gradually, very slightly, their numbers began to wane. Eventually sigils came into play. Gauge was unsure what to make of the change; for a few diuns all he knew was that those bearing the round-cornered sigil paid well, while the sharply-cornered ones didn't. If a "rounder" and a "sharper" got on during the same ride, Gauge learned to brace himself, praying in tune to the rumble of the engine and keeping himself hunkered down low in case of blaster fire. When had blasters become a necessity in this city?

Everything Gauge was piecing together from the now-rare chatty passengers... It was all starting to make sense. It formed an idea in his mind that he couldn't quite shake and wasn't quite sure he wanted to shake: _rounders are good people in a bad spot, like me. I want to join them_. But there was nothing an airway pod driver could offer them except a lift.

Just as he was starting to reaccept his role in this world, the confrontation happened. One of the sharpers—Decepticons, they were called now; Gauge still didn't know what rounders were officially—decided to pick a fight with him. According to the Decepticon, as he was reaching out to take his pay, Gauge had reached too far and tried to snag his credit clip. Apparently he'd "tried to take more than he was worth." Fortunately Gauge hadn't started the pod yet, as the Decepticon lashed out and seized his neck, pulling him out of the seat.

Something extraordinary happened: a red and blue mech barely half of the Con's size, not even wearing a rounder's sigil, had leapt out of his own seat and grabbed the attacker's arm. "If you don't like him, fly home under your own power," he'd snapped. "Aren't your wings what you Decepticons love to lord over us?!"

The Con had responded by elbowing the stranger in the face, still holding Gauge with that hand. With the forceful movement Gauge was hanging over the right arm of the seat and when he looked up he could see into the aisle. It turned out his impromptu protector had an orange and ivory companion who also leapt to his feet, catching his stumbling friend. He hissed words at Gauge's almost-hero as he turned him around to inspect him. Red-Blue's back was now facing Gauge, but he had glimpsed energon and now Orange-Ivory saw it too. Their roles were swapped in an instant, with Orange-Ivory pouncing at the Decepticon and Red-Blue struggling (failing) to hold him back.

Gauge himself was forgotten, left over the arm of the seat as the Con went to meet Orange-Ivory face-on. There was no telling how much damage would be caused to the pod, the mechs, or his own nearly-ruined reputation, but Gauge wasn't in the mood to intervene and get killed. Miraculously, another hero, a rounder he hadn't even noticed on the pod, stood up in a flash of purple and silver, grabbing both Orange-Ivory and the Decepticon before they could smash together.

"As more time passes," he said, his voice just loud enough for Gauge to overhear, "I am finding that battle is like high-grade energon; it goes to the minds of cowards just as quickly as heroes. If you are foolish enough to blur the lines between your battlefields and your homefronts, tell me now and I will _end_ your confusion, because I am _not_ willing to let you blur my own."

Tense kliks of silence passed before Orange-Ivory relented, shrugging out of the intervener's grasp and muttering an apology to his friend, Red-Blue. The Decepticon took a bit longer to back off, snarling at the purple and silver rounder as Gauge righted himself in his seat and began the drive. The rounder glowered unflinchingly back until the Decepticon arrived at his station. Gauge waited until the doors closed to turn in his seat and peek at the three passengers.

"You're welcome," Orange-Ivory informed him in the silence. Gauge swallowed awkwardly, unsure of how to respond, and made it all the way to the next stop before he finally came up with a question directed to the rounder.

"Um…the sharpers…they're called Decepticons. What are you called, rounder?"

"I am an Autobot," the purple and silver mech stated, pride evident in his quiet tone. Rising and heading for the doors, he added, "But I prefer to be called by my name: Engarde."

Gauge opened his mouth to ask something else, but Engarde was already disappearing. Red-Blue and Orange-Ivory followed close behind him, too quickly for Gauge to ask them their names either. He would never find out until he answered the Autobots' call, reporting to a huge red and blue mech entitled as Prime and his orange and white CMO, his best friend.


End file.
